Ward Roylance straddled two eras in Utah—particularly southern Utah-tourism. One foot was firmly planted in the traditional post-World War II era, when everything in America—including road building, adventure tourism, corporate expansion, and mineral exploration was expanding at an unparalleled pace.…
THANKS to Tom McCourt & the Tibbetts Family. For years, I have been watching Moab move farther and farther away from its roots, to the point where it seems few people even know the history of the place anymore. Some…
From the August 2008 Archives Readers of the Zephyr are not unfamiliar with the angst that its writers often express over the deteriorating state of our natural environment and the ineffectiveness of our best efforts to reverse the trend.…
Lee’s Ferry “Near MARBLE CANYON, 73.9 m., is Marble Canyon Lodge (spring water, hotel and cottages). Echo Cliffs and Kaibito Plateau, in the Navajo Reservation, are visible to the east. “Left from Marble Canyon filling station on a narrow side…
On the first day of 1892, my great-great grandmother, Mary Conrad Montfort, opened a thin leather-bound journal and turned to its first page. Dipping her pen into a small bottle of black ink she paused; then she began to write:…
INTRODUCTION by JIM STILES Bill Benge was the best friend I’ve ever had. He came to Moab in the early 1970s and at 27, became the youngest elected county attorney in Utah history. He was a familiar face to all…
THANKS to Tom McCourt & the Tibbetts Family. For years, I have been watching Moab move farther and farther away from its roots, to the point where it seems few people even know the history of the place anymore. Some…
From The Zephyr archives, in 2004 Irene Thill shared her memories of Moab of half a century ago and into the Uranium Boom. A year later, she ‘wrapped things up’ with this last installment. Irene died in 2008—I wonder what…
This is the story—a sort of historical sketch—of one of my most adventurous friends. Though she would join me on many trips—about 40 of them—from 1962 to 1979, I had never heard of Edna Fridley when Harry Aleson met me…
